


Winter is Coming, and the Long Night With It

by Snakes54



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-10 23:19:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18670399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snakes54/pseuds/Snakes54
Summary: What-if AU. What if Ned Stark took up Renly’s offer and ordered the Queen and her children to be locked up and Renly was put on the Iron Throne? What if Jon Snow never fulfilled his vows to become a member of the Night’s Watch? What would happen, and what wouldn’t? (Also this is a Jon/Robb fic primarily so probably not would have actually happened in the books/TV show if events played out like this, but it’s my fic soooo...)DISCLAIMER: This is only based on the TV show; I have not read the books (sorry). All characters are property of George R.R. Martin and HBO.





	1. I: A Hundred Swords

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody! Hope you’re having a wonderful day. So here begins our wonderful journey: The New Song, as it were. Anyway, I’ll keep this short so you can get on with reading this story, but I just wanted to say that this is my first fic so I’d really appreciate any constructive criticism (and praise (obvs)) in the comments, and if you like it please leave kudos! Anyway, with that all out of the way, and without further ado, the first chapter awaits...

Renly was looking at him expectantly, but Ned could not accept his offer; Renly wasn’t even the true heir. Joffrey was a bastard, and so was illegitimate along with his brother. However, this made Renly second in line; Stannis still came first, no matter how cold and hardened he was.

“I will not dishonour the memory of King Robert by shedding blood in the Red Keep and dragging frightened children from their beds,” he declared with a finality.

“We need to act now,” Renly retorted. “In the morning, Cersei and her allies will know what’s happening. She’s already planning your demise. Do not underestimate her.”

It still didn’t sit right with Ned. The thought of plotting this treason when Robert had only just died troubled him. But in the capital, fortune normally favoured the fast.

He paused and weighed up his options. He could reject Renly’s offer and side with Littlefinger, but something about Littlefinger still made Ned uneasy. He didn’t know whether he could truly trust him. His motives were still unsure and unknown. Renly, on the other hand, was a lot more straightforward. His motives were clear; he wanted to sit on the Iron Throne. Even though he was not next in line, Ned could not deny that Renly would make a better king than Stannis. And he knew that it would be very unwise for him to underestimate Cersei. All things considered, Renly’s proposal seemed the most logical course of action, even if it was dishonourable. Then again, Ned had led a rebellion with Robert. How could he talk about the line of succession? How could he talk about honour?

“Do it,” said Ned. “I will back you when the time comes. The children will be released from custody though after a time. They are guilty of no crime. Cersei will be charged of treason and adultery, and Jaime along with her. Arrest them now.”

Renly simply nodded curtly, turned on his heel and left. Ned hobbled back to his chambers, wincing with pain every time he took a step. Jaime really had left a great gash in his leg. He thought he had some Milk of the Poppy by his bed, so at least he could relieve that pain. A short relief though; Ned knew that the worst was still yet to come.

 

****

 

Meanwhile, on the wall, the roles for the new recruits had just been read out and Jon Snow was furious. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he was properly angry. Steward. Steward! This was definitely Alliser Thorne’s doing. Jon couldn’t stand this, and ran away from the rest of the recruits who were designated as stewards. Sam followed him.

“Jon,” Sam called after him, but Jon was too angry to face him at that moment. How could Ser Alliser had done this? Jon knew he had always hated him, but he didn’t think he’d do this.

“Jon,” Sam repeated. Jon turned around with a fury.

“What, Sam?” he shouted, a bit harsher than he’d intended. Sam was frozen.

“Jon,” he started, “it might seem bad now but listen to me. The old man is the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. You’ll be with him day and night. Yes, you’ll clean his clothes. But you’ll also take his letters, attend him at meetings, squire for him in battle. You’ll know everything, be part of everything. And he asked for you himself. He wants to groom you for command.”

Jon stopped and pondered this proposition. Part of him agreed with Sam, but another part of him felt that Sam couldn’t be more wrong. It seemed this was clearly Ser Alliser’s revenge and it was clear that Alliser wanted to be Lord Commander himself.

“I don’t know, I just always wanted to be a ranger,” he said.

“And I always wanted to be a wizard,” Sam replied, quite seriously.

Jon couldn’t help the laughter from spilling out his mouth.

“So you’ll stay? Take your vows?” Sam asked, hopeful.

Jon thought. He thought about all the friends he’d made there; Pyp, Konrad, Sam. He thought about the Night’s Watch, and the commanders. But then he thought of his family; his sisters; his brothers; Robb. He thought of the summers with Robb, when the Maester thought they were reading in the library and they sneaked off into the woods. He thought of Robb’s laugh, and his smile. He thought of Robb, and he realised that he didn’t want to be a member of the Night’s Watch any longer.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Jon said. “I don’t think I want to be a brother of the Night’s Watch anymore.”

Sam looked devastated, but understanding.

“Where will you go?”

“To Winterfell. To my family,” he said. _To Robb_ , he thought. “You could come too Sam, if you want. I’m sure you’d be welcome. You only came here because your father forced you to. If you left now, he’d never find out. And if he does, he won’t care. I’m sure you’d like it in Winterfell.”

“I can’t Jon, I have to stay here. It’s my duty now. I’ll, I’ll write to you... if you want, I mean–” Sam paused and took a deep breath. “Goodbye Jon.”

“Goodbye Sam.”

Jon hugged him and then went to find Konrad and Pyp, and told them what he was doing. They were shocked but understanding, as was Commander Mormont. Alliser just smirked the whole time, ecstatic that Jon was getting out of his hair. Jon went to the stables and saddled a horse, and then rode out the gates of Castle Black. He rode with Ghost running along beside him. He rode to Winterfell.

 

****

 

Cersei Lannister was in her chambers preparing to go to sleep when she heard the commotion outside her door. There was something wrong. The sounds of shouts and screams bled through the oaken door; children’s shouts. She approached the door steadily. She knew those shouts. She knew those screams. It was Myrcella; and it was Tommen; and it was Joffrey. She flew past her bed and slammed the door open.

Tommen was being carried away by the Hound. Joffrey was kicking and screaming, fighting back against a man she’d never seen before. Myrcella was being held by the largest woman Cersei had ever seen.

“Explain the meaning of this,” she demanded. “What are you doing with my children? What are you doing with your king?”

“Cersei Lannister,” the large woman said, “I am Brienne of Tarth. I have been ordered by Prince Renly Baratheon to escort you to the dungeons.”

“The dungeons?”

“You have been charged with incest, adultery and treason. As such, you will be dealt the king’s justice,” Brienne said calmly.

“Joffrey is your king!” Cersei cried.

“The bastard Joffrey Waters is not the king. This order was given to me by Prince Renly Baratheon, and was approved by the Hand of the King: Lord Eddard Stark,” Brienne replied.

“Ned Stark? That vicious bastard.”

“No, the vicious bastard would appear to be your son,” the man with Joffrey retorted.

Cersei sank to the floor, and allowed herself to be led away. She could do nothing; for now. Having given up, she was led to the dungeons. To her surprise, however, her children were not.

“Where have you taken my children?” she ordered frantically.

“They have been taken to a safe room within the Red Keep, as ordered by Lord Eddard Stark,” one of the guards informed her.

At least they were safe, she thought. Ned Stark truly was an honourable man, even when he was arresting her. She wasn’t scared though; her father would have her back. No matter how honourable Ned Stark was, it was normally the richest who were in control of the Seven Kingdoms. No, it was always the richest.

 

****

 

After riding all night, Jon could finally see the towers of Winterfell blooming from underneath the horizon.

“We’re here, Ghost,” he breathed to his four-legged companion. Ghost barked in approval.

He carried on riding, until he sat on the horse at the front gate. He dismounted, patted Ghost, took a deep breath and then went inside. The courtyard was mostly empty, with only a few servants rushing around, fulfilling their various duties. Some greeted him, but most stayed out of his way.

Making his way slowly, he set about finding Robb. He needed to see him. He climbed the steps, and set out down the corridor to where he knew Robb’s chambers were. He approached the door, knocked and went inside. It was a cause of great shock, therefore, that when the door opened he did not see Robb, but another person. A woman.

“Who are you?” she demanded, rather rudely.

Jon paused, thinking.

“I could say the same to you,” he responded.

“Osha,” she replied, “the wildling girl? Come on, we all know that I’m the prime gossip subject here right now. How do you not know who I am?”

“Jon Snow,” he said.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Jon Snow,” Jon clarified.

“Wait, aren’t you that one what went to the wall to join the crows,” she stated.

“The Night’s Watch,” he corrected.

“We call them the crows.”

“Did you say that you’re a wildling?” Jon asked.

“Yeah, what of it?” the wildling girl asked, protective.

“What are you doing here? How did you get south of the wall?” he asked back.

“We fled.”

“From whom?”

“The white walkers.”

“The white walkers don’t exist. They are just stories that you’re wet nurse told you as a child to stop you running off in the dark,” Jon said.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Then, why am I here in the south?”  
“We’re not in the south,” he said.

“We’re south of the wall, that makes this the south,” she retorted.

Jon didn’t know what to say to that, so he thought it best not to say anything at all. He still didn’t know who this wildling girl was, or what she was doing in Robb’s chambers. A horrid thought crossed Jon’s mind, but he banished it away. There was no use in jumping to conclusions. Not when he didn’t even know what was going on yet. Jumping to conclusions almost always resulted in the wrong answer.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door and a man entered.

“Osha,” he began before he saw Jon standing there and froze, wondering whether he was dreaming.

“Jon?” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“Robb.”

Jon practically threw his arms around Robb, and Robb did likewise. Jon breathed deep, allowing Robb’s musky scent to fill his nostrils. Being in Winterfell wasn’t home to him, not truly. Here, in Robb’s arms, though. This was home. They stood like that for some time, their faces buried in the other’s shoulder. Hugging was a great way to hide your face, and neither of them wanted to display the rawness of their emotions to the other. They were only broken apart by a loud rude voice in the corner of the room.

“Eurgh, get a room,” the wildling girl, Osha, complained.

“I think you’ll find that we are in a room, Osha. It’s just a pity that you are in it too,” Robb remarked.

“Oi, I was ordered to come in here by the old man!”

“His name is Maester Luwin and you are dismissed now.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll just go and talk to Bran then, seeing as I’m not welcome here.”

She left, closing the door behind her. As soon as it closed, Jon rushed over to Robb to envelop himself in his arms again, and be held like a baby. Robb pushed him away.

“What are you doing here Jon?” he asked. “Are you a deserter?”

“What? No!” Robb glared at him. “No!”

“Then why are you here?” he asked.

“I... I didn’t take my vows... I’m not a member of the Night’s Watch,” he admitted.

“What?” Robb was incredulous, “I tried to persuade you so many times not to join the Night’s Watch, to stay here with me. And every time you refused. You wanted this more than anything in the world, and now you run away from it?”

“Robb,” he began.

“Were you always going to do this? Was this your plan? You make everyone believe, you make me believe, that you were gone forever and then you just come waltzing back. ‘Surprise! I’m back everyone!’ Do you have any idea how you made us feel; how you made me feel? Well, do you?” Robb was fuming.

“Robb,” Jon tried to interject again.

“I mourned you,” Robb continued. “You went away and left me here, on my own, and let me mourn you. Is this what you wanted? Is this all some sick joke?”

“No, Robb”

“Then why would you do it?” He was shouting now, tears streaming down his face. “Why would you let me mourn you, and just come back like nothing ever happened?”

“Robb, I...” Jon began.

“Just don’t,” Robb said. “Just... don’t.”

Robb left. Jon sank down onto his bed and wept. The tears just didn’t stop spilling from his eyes. He didn’t think Robb would ever forgive him. He stayed there for a while, before standing up again. Maybe things would go better with his other two brothers.

He left the room and went down to the room where Bran was. He was awake now; when Jon left he had still been in his coma. Part of him also hoped that Robb would be there. He just needed to explain to Robb, that’s all it would take. Just a simple explanation. He couldn’t bear Robb being angry at him. He thought he might break.

Now standing outside Bran’s room, he knocked and went inside. There was no one there, however, and so he went back into the courtyard, where he found Bran and Rickon having a lesson with Maester Luwin.

“Lannister,” said the Maester, “what’s their sigil?”

“A lion,” Rickon supplied.

“Words?” he said.

“A Lannister always pays his debts,” said Bran.

“No,” replied the Maester, “a common phrase but not the true words. The true words are–”

“Hear me roar,” Jon said.

They all turned around to see who had said the words.

“Jon!” Rickon said, running excitedly up to him and clutching his leg like a tree trunk. Jon patted his hair.

Bran looked equally excited but, obviously, could not rise to greet him. Jon went over to him and hugged his brother. The four of them (Jon, Rickon, Bran and Maester Luwin) talked at quite a length about what had happened. Jon told them about the Night’s Watch, and the horrible Alliser Thorne; about Samwell Tarly and the friends he’d made. And why ultimately he decided not to take the black.

In return, they informed him of what had happened to them. About the imp giving instructions for a saddle for Bran to ride. About the wildling attack on Bran and how now Osha was their prisoner. They told all this and more. They told him that the imp was being put on trial in the Eyrie, or so rumour informed them.

“Does Robb know you’re back?” Bran asked.

“Yes,” Jon said, “we... uh... we spoke.”

There was silence in which Maester Luwin gave Jon a knowing look.

“Um... do any of you know where Robb is?” Jon asked.

“He went into the Godswood, I think.” Maester Luwin informed him.

“Thank you,” Jon replied. “I’ll let you get back to your lesson.”

“Oh, and Jon?” Maester Luwin called. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“I’m glad to be back.”

Jon said his goodbyes to his brothers and started to make his way to the Godswood. There, as promised, he saw Robb who was just sitting by the Weirwood tree, on his own. He approached him slowly before sitting down beside him, unsure of what to say. Therefore, he said nothing, and just listened to the birds chirping all around. Some time passed.

“Robb,” he said delicately. There was no response.

“I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t know if I was coming back when I left. In fact, I was sure I wasn’t.” Still no response. “Do you not believe me?” Still nothing.

“Robb, don’t do this,” Jon begged. “Don’t do this to me, please.”

“Don’t do this,” Robb echoed. “Don’t do this? Really? You abandoned me! You were the one who left me!”

“I had to go, I–”

“Oh, did you really? Why? I thought you loved it here. I thought you loved your family. I thought you loved me. Or is that just another lie.”

“Can you just shut up for a minute!” Jon screamed. Robb went silent in shock. “You have no idea what it’s like, do you? You don’t know what it’s like growing up a bastard. Never truly being a part of the family; never truly feeling like you belong; your mother hating you, because she isn’t really your mother; the servants looking down on you. That’s why I left! I left because I couldn’t deal with it anymore. I was done being the bastard.”

Silence, before Robb said, “why did you come back?”

“The Night’s Watch, it wasn’t what I thought it would be,” Jon said. “The others, apart from a select few, they, they just were horrible. And I was allocated steward when I really wanted to be a ranger.”

Robb snorted.

“Oi, I’m being serious!” Jon piped up, indignant. “And then I thought of our family and you and I just thought about all the things I’d left behind and I changed my mind.”

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” Robb said.

“I’m sorry, for abandoning you.”

“And I’m sorry for behaving like a complete arse,” Robb said.

“Hug?” Jon offered, and was soon enveloped on Robb’s arms, and he breathed in Robb’s scent once again. He smiled. He was home again.

 

****

 

Bronn was walking through the woods with Tyrion. It was a long journey, but Bronn knew there were great rewards awaiting him at the end of it. They moved up a hill at the edge of the woods which opened onto a clearing, where there were hundreds of tents.

“Well then,” said Tyrion. “Time to meet my father.”

They moved through the camp. Some of the Lannister soldiers turned to stare at them but none had the courage to say anything to either of them. They knew who the imp was, and he was still Lord Tywin’s son, no matter how much Lord Tywin despised him.

And so they approached the Lord’s tent and went inside. Tywin and his brother, Kevan, were inside it, evidently discussing plans for war.

“Father. Uncle,” Tyrion said in greeting.

“Ah, Tyrion,” replied Tywin. “The rumours of your death were unfounded.”

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you father,” Tyrion retorted. “So kind of you to go to war for me.”

“I did not go to war for you. I went to war to preserve the honour and dignity of the Lannister name; a name currently being ground into the dirt,” Tywin said angrily. “But please do introduce me to your new... friend? Companion? Lover?” He pointed to Bronn. Kevan smirked.

“This is Bronn,” Tyrion declared proudly, “son of …”

“You wouldn’t’ve heard of him,” Bronn interjected.

“And Bronn, may I present My Lord Father: Tywin, son of Tytos, of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West,” Tyrion introduced with some irritation.

“So what is happening in the world, noble father? I’m afraid I have been somewhat uninformed of issues in the outside world since I was taken hostage,” Tyrion said, reaching for a jug of wine. Tywin moved the jug out of the way so Tyrion could not reach it.

“Cersei and her children have been arrested, your brother Jaime has been ordered to hand himself over to custody and I have been declared an enemy of the state,” Tywin stated furiously.

“So a lot then,” Tyrion replied. “What are the charges?”

“Jaime and Cersei have been charged with incest, and I have been charged with treason for ordering the Mountain to stir up the people against the Tullys. The Mountain, coincidentally, has been ordered to be executed.”

“Well father,” Tyrion smirked, “you may not like him, and you certainly don’t now, but it appears that Lord Eddard is not as stupid as one might think; he seems to have got his charges all perfectly correct.”

“It’s not funny Tyrion, every action that Ned Stark takes is another slight on the Lannister family name,” Tywin said. “The family name is what–”

“Lives on, yeah, I get it blah, blah, blah,” mocked Tyrion. Bronn struggled to hold in his laughter. Tywin was fuming.

“It is true Tyrion. How do you propose we take ourselves out of this predicament?” Tywin demanded.

“Demand a trial by combat,” answered Tyrion, “worked for me.”

A pause.

“But what are you doing about it?” Tyrion asked.

“Attacking,” Tywin said simply. “I will lay siege to Winterfell.”

 

****

 

Robb Stark was genuinely happy for the first time in a long time. Jon was home, and things seemed only to be going up for his father in the capital. He remembered when he was little, when he and Jon were inseparable, much to his mother’s dismay. They grew up together, and they remained equally as inseparable, if not more so. Naturally, Robb was heartbroken when Jon said he wanted to leave to join the Night’s Watch. After all their time spent together, Jon wanted to leave him now? Did he really mean so little to Jon that he simply could be abandoned? But it was over now, thank the gods, and Jon was by his side again.

They walked, side by side, through the courtyard. Theon was nearby and approached them.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the bastard,” he leered. “What’s the matter, bastard, not man enough for the Night’s Watch.”

“Nice to see you too, prisoner,” Jon retorted. “I hope you remember on whose land you stand.”

“I stand on your father’s land, not yours, bastard.”

“And my father’s land is my land while he is away, Theon, so you would do well to treat Jon with respect,” Robb interrupted, addressing Theon sternly.

“Alright,” Theon said, “welcome back milord.” He gave a false curtsy and a simpering smile. “Bastard,” he added, before running off.

“Don’t mind him,” Robb whispered in Jon’s ear. “It’s just Theon.”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it,” was Jon’s reply.

Together they hurried back to Robb’s chambers, and started talking about their experiences when they were not together. Jon had already heard most of what happened at Winterfell, after being informed by Maester Luwin and his two younger brothers, and so most of the discussion was focused on Jon.

Jon retold all that had happened to him at Castle Black. He told him about the friends he made there. He told him about Alliser Thorne (“cunt” was the colourful word Robb used to describe him) and they carried on talking well into the night, each pleased to be in the other’s company.

 

****

 

Meanwhile, Catelyn had decided to set off back to Winterfell, after realising her sister was absolutely crazy, and was currently riding with Ser Rodrik Cassel, not all that far from her home. Not that it always felt like her home, mind you. She had lived there for years, for most of her life, but she still felt like the castle looked down on her with judgement. She was not of the North, and she felt judged because of it.

They had arrived. It was late at night and only a few guards were at the castle gates. They greeted her and Ser Rodrik, and let them inside.

“If it’s just as well with you milady,” Rodrick said, “I think I might retire for the night.”

She thanked him and he left. Her gut instinct was to go to see Bran first, but she thought it better to speak with Robb. She had heard a rumour that Tywin Lannister was planning an attack on the North while she was on the road and she needed to warn him.

She approached the threshold of her son’s chambers, when she heard voices coming from the inside. One was Robb’s voice and the other was gut-wretchingly familiar. It was the voice of Jon Snow, the bastard.

She slammed the door open in fury and both men turned to her, turned sheepish by her steely gaze.

“What is he doing here?” She demanded, looking at Robb. “He’s supposed to be at the Night’s Watch.”

“He never took his vows,” Robb tried to explain, but Catelyn had already turned to Jon.

“I told you to say away from my family,” she said coldly.

Stark (no pun intended) realisation began to flood across Robb’s face as he understood the real reason Jon left. Jon had said it was because he was sick of being a bastard. It wasn’t really a lie, but the real reason was Catelyn. Jon just didn’t want to create tension between Robb and his mother so he didn’t tell the whole truth. Robb was livid.

“Jon is part of our family, Mum!” he declared furiously.

“That vicious bastard should leave our family alone!” Catelyn declared more loudly, also in a mad fury, and in her uncontrollable rage she pushed Jon.

She didn’t mean it, not really. Yes, she meant to push him and yes, she meant for him to fall. But not into the fire as he did.

The clothes he was wearing were set alight, and Robb was frozen in panic. Catelyn rushed out of the room and a moment later came back, a bucket of water in her hands and threw it over Jon.

They leaned over him, expecting him to have severe burns but to their surprise his skin was clear. Some of his clothes had burned away but not his skin. He would appear to be fire-resistant. And in that moment, they all realised the same thing. They had all heard the stories. There was only one family of which there were rumours of some family members not burning. The Targaryens. Ned had some serious explaining to do.


	2. II: A Lannister Always Pays His Debts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the next chapter. Sorry for the wait!
> 
> The next chapter should be up by Wednesday but don't quote me on that! Anyway, enjoy!

It was raining at the Lannister camp, streams of water were flooding down from the heavens. Tyrion stood in his father’s tent. Military preparations were being made and plans were being drawn up; this made Tyrion wonder why he was here. His father had never shown any particular interest in his younger son’s military prowess, or lack of it rather. No, all interest in that was of that of his brother Jaime, Tywin’s perfect son. So perfect, in fact, thought Tyrion, that he could get away with fucking his sister. He was the apple of his father’s eye. Tyrion, on the other hand, wasn’t quite an apple in his father’s eye, more of a thorn actually. Tyrion shuddered; he did not want to relive any painful childhood memories.

“Hello father,” he said shortly.

His father ignored him, still evidently engrossed in his military preparations.

“Father,” Tyrion tried again; no response.

“Why am I here?” Tyrion finally asked.

Tywin looked up, an expression clouded his face which Tyrion could almost mistake for impressed for a second; but upon better thought and closer consideration realised was probably irritation.

“Do I need an excuse to bring my son to my tent to discuss the upcoming battle?” Tywin growled.

“No,” answered Tyrion, “but you never come to me to discuss combat. My brother, yes, but never me.”

“Your brother is laying siege to the Riverlands.”

“Oh, I see,” Tyrion said coolly, “have they done something wrong as well?”

“Hoster Tully’s daughter kidnapped you, if you can remember with all the drink you have, and the other one put you on trial,” Tywin snarled.

“Yes, father, but don’t you realise who’s standing in front of you? Look at me, I’m no longer Lady Stark’s nor Lady Arryn’s prisoner. Why are you still fighting for my rescue?”

“I am not fighting for your rescue, your state of being was never any of my concern.”

“Oh, how heart-warming,” Tyrion interrupted.

Tywin continued, “I am fighting for the Lannister name; a name that seems to count for less and less these days. It is the name that–”

“Lives on, yes, yes,” said Tyrion, annoyed. “But that still doesn’t answer my question: why am I here?”

Tywin exhaled sharply. “To get to Winterfell, one must pass through the Twins. The Twins, as you know, are controlled by Lord Walder Frey.”

“Yes, still not quite seeing the point.”

“Now, Walder is a man whose intentions are known. He wants wives with which to make children, and he wants to get rid of his children as quickly as he can. I doubt if he can even remember their names; in fact, I bet he didn’t even know their names when they were born. Added to that, like most people in the Seven Kingdoms, and beyond of course, he wants money. The Lannisters are rich; we can give him his money. However, it is likely that he will try to get rid of one of his children by marriage; that’s why you are here,” said Tywin, finally answering Tyrion’s question.

“You want me to marry one of Walder Frey’s daughters?” Tyrion sounded horrified. Bronn smirked in the corner.

“Yes, and you will with no arguments,” Tywin said sternly.

Tyrion started to protest, “Father, I–”

“What did I just say?” Tywin asked, his voice deadly.

Tyrion shut his gaping mouth. There was no use in arguing; when his father had the look on his face that he did now, nothing would prevent him from getting what he wanted.

“Come Tyrion,” said his father, “we leave for the Twins now. You can leave your friend behind,” he added, motioning towards Bronn.

Tyrion followed his father out of the tent in silence, momentarily speechless. He had to marry a woman from House Frey, as his father commanded him. Tyrion supposed that was how it always happened; his father always commanded him.

Gathering together two horses and a small entourage of Lannister soldiers, Tyrion and his father made their way to the Twins. Tyrion held his breath. He had met Walder Frey once before. It was not a pleasant experience.

“When we get in there, let me do the talking,” his father hissed at him. Tyrion grunted in reply.

The ride was not very long and soon they were standing in a great hall, surrounded by Frey’s very many children. Tyrion scanned the crowd looking for a woman he would be prepared to marry. He found one, but unfortunately under closer inspection he realised she was just a maid. Lord Walder sat in the middle of the hall.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Lord Frey,” Tywin began, “what an honour it is to see you again after so many years.”

“Oh, do get on with it,” Frey said.

“Father!” exclaimed one of his sons, evidently shocked by his father’s rudeness. Tyrion didn’t know why. Everyone else in the Seven Kingdoms knew that Walder Frey was a rude dickhead, it seemed odd that his own family didn’t, or perhaps it was rather fitting.

“Oh shut up, bastard,” snapped Walder, “your mother would still be a milkmaid if I hadn’t squirted you into her belly. I don’t need any lectures in manners from you.” He turned back to Tywin, “what do you want?”

“Lord Frey,” Tywin began again, “I have come to request that you open the Trident gates, allow my army to pass through and I’ll be on my way.”

“And why would I do that?”

“I have 30,000 men just beyond that hill–”

“The crown has more,” Walder interrupted. “You are a traitor now, aren’t you? Soon, a royal army is going to come up here and turn your 30,000 soldiers into 30,000 corpses. I wouldn’t be surprised if Robb Stark and the other northerners started marching south as well. Don’t try to threaten me, Lord Tywin. You don’t have the power anymore.”

A pause.

“Then,” said Tywin, absent of any emotion, “perhaps we could discuss a deal.” Walder’s face perked up at that. “In private,” Tywin added.

“Well then,” Walder told his chidren, “you heard Lord Tywin. Get lost the lot of you!” He turned to his wife and added, “you too, you stupid slut.”

“Look at her,” he said to Tywin, motioning at his wife, “only 15 years of age and barely flowered. So beautiful. A pity they don’t come with brains these days.”

“I’m sure she will bear you many sons,” said Tywin.

“Oh, I should hope not!” exclaimed Walder. “I’ve already got an infestation as it is. So then, what is this deal?”

“I am rich, as I’m sure you are aware,” said Tywin, “I could offer you vast sums of gold.”

“I don’t want your gold,” said Walder gruffly. “What use is gold to me when Ned Stark’s army start marching north? What do I do then, when it is discovered that I have been fraternising with traitors? What will the honourable Ned Stark do? Kill me, I expect. So, I’ll ask you again: what is this deal?”

Tywin seemed to be growing more and more frustrated, and so he went straight to his major playing-card: Tyrion.

“Also in the deal,” he stated, “would be to marry one of your daughters to my son here, Tyrion.” He motioned to Tyrion. Walder examined him carefully.

“Alright then,” said Walder, “I’ll agree to your deal, but only on two other conditions.”

“What conditions?”

“One, you are to offer protection to my household from Ned Stark, or Robb Stark, or whoever else,” he demanded.

“Whomever,” Tyrion muttered to himself. Thankfully, Walder did not hear him.

“Of course,” said Tywin.

“And two, you are to wed one of my daughters as well,” Walder added.

Silence. Deadly silence. You surely could have heard a pin drop, or at least you might have done, if a pin were dropping, which there wasn’t. 

“Me?” asked Tywin. Tyrion was struggling not to laugh.

“You’re not married, are you?”

“No–”

“So that’s settled then,” said Walder.

Tywin looked like he was about to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, he said “indeed”.

“Oh, and don’t worry,” said Walder. “I have a few beautiful daughters in amongst the trout-faced ones. If I was in your position, I would go for Gritia.”

A beautiful name, Tyrion thought sarcastically to himself.

“Only fourteen and just flowered. So beautiful. Imagine the sounds she’d make as you started breaking her in.”

Tywin only nodded. If there was one thing sure to Tyrion in that moment though, it was that his father was not going to marry Gritia.

 

****

 

Chaos was unfolding at King’s Landing. Most of the nobles had no idea what was going on. Rumour had it that in the night, the queen had been arrested, and taken to the dungeons for treason. There was no word on her children, however.

Littlefinger was one of them, shocked, but yet impressed all the same. He hadn’t expected Ned Stark to do something so dishonourable. It appeared that the Lord of Winterfell had outsmarted him for the first time. And the last, he added in his head.

Maester Pycelle, on the other hand, was reacting just as expected. He just bumbled like the potty old fool that he was; muttering some words about dishonour and treachery. No one really understood what he was saying, and no one particularly cared.

Renly just stood with a wide grin on his face, and Varys… Well, Varys was harder to read for Littlefinger. The eunuch’s intentions were never known, which was probably why Varys had managed to climb so high on the political ladder, being what he was: a foreigner with no cock, unless he kept chickens of course. He probably didn’t, Littlefinger reasoned.

The door opened and in walked Ned Stark. He had barely made it two steps in before Pycelle swooped down on him.

“My Lord Hand,” he said, “what is the meaning of this? The queen has been arrested by Renly Baratheon and the future king is nowhere to be found.”

“The princes and princess are in a secure location,” Ned replied. “They are safe.”

“What will you do, then?” Pycelle demanded. “What punishment will you give the traitor Renly Baratheon?”

“I am here, you know,” said Renly.

“Nothing,” Ned responded. “The queen was arrested on my orders. She is to await trial for treason.”

“My Lord?” Varys stepped forward. “Might I ask on what grounds she is accused of treason?”

“She has been accused of plotting to murder King Robert, and attempting to place her bastards on the throne.”

“Bastards?!” Pycelle cried, horrified.

“I have evidence,” began Ned, “to suggest that the Princes Joffrey and Tommen, along with Princess Myrcella, are illegitimate.”

There was silence, before Ned continued.

“It is also likely, therefore, that Queen Cersei, or her lover Ser Jaime,…”

There were gasps at this.

“…killed Robyn Arryn, for he knew the truth of the children’s parentage. That is why his last words were ‘the seed is strong’. No true-born Baratheon has ever been fair of hair; their hair has always been black. And the same is true for all of Robert’s many bastard sons.”

There were a few moments of stunned silence that passed. Pycelle still seemed to be coming to terms with the revelation. Littlefinger stepped forward.

“Might I ask, my Lord,” he said, “what you wish to do with Cersei?”

“She will be put on trial, and forced to answer for her crimes.”

“My Lord!” exclaimed Pycelle. “Cersei is still the queen of the Seven Kingdoms, regardless of any false accusations that you make against her.”

“Queens are not above the law, Grand Maester,” said Varys, “and it would seem the accusations are anything but false. What of the children?” he added to Ned.

“The children will be kept safe within the Red Keep for now. They are guilty of no crime. I will decide what to with them later.”

“And who will be king?” Littlefinger asked.

“Presumably it would go to Robert’s eldest brother,” said Pycelle. “That would be Stannis.”

“Upon careful consideration though,” said Ned carefully. It seemed hard for him to formulate his words properly. “I have decided to name Renly the king. Stannis, I think we can all agree is a fine military commander, but he would not make a fine king.”

Renly’s grin grew wider still.

“My Lord!” the Grand Maester exclaimed. “Renly Baratheon–”

“I call this meeting adjourned now,” said Ned.

Pycelle shut his mouth, and the rest of the lords and the Grand Maester filtered out. The meeting was over, for now.

 

****

 

Catelyn and Robb were looking at him in shock, and Jon knew why. There were several moments of nothing but stunned silence, and then Catelyn began to speak.

“Jon, I–” she started, before cutting off. She then turned to Robb, “you must never tell anyone about this.”

“Mum, I won’t–”

“No one who isn’t me, Jon, or your father can ever know,” she commanded, even more firmly than before.

“Mum, I said I wouldn’t,” Robb exclaimed, indignant.

“Jon, I’m so sorry,” she said.

“I know,” Jon replied. He didn’t really. He hadn’t changed; just because he was likely to be a Targaryen now didn’t excuse Catelyn’s previous resentment towards him. He wanted to say that to her, but didn’t. Maybe the endless years of yearning for her love stopped him. Either way she had apologised now and Jon felt that a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could thank her for that at least.

 

“I have to speak to your father,” Catelyn said to Robb and turned to leave.

“Mum!” Robb called after her. She turned around.

“If he’s a Targaryen,” he continued, “why is here?”

Bit harsh, thought Jon, but he understood what Robb had meant. Why was he here? Robert had tried to get all the Targaryens killed years ago. He should be dead.  
Instead of answering Robb, Catelyn turned to Jon.

“Towards the end of Robert’s rebellion, there were rumours,” she started.

“What rumours?” asked Robb.

“Be quiet, Robb,” she told him.

“There were rumours, before Lyanna died, that she was pregnant,” she finished. “No one in the entire Seven Kingdoms dared to believe them to be true.”

“If Lyanna was my mother,” asked Jon, already knowing what her answer was likely going to be, “does that mean Rhaegar is my father?”

“Yes, Rhaegar kidnapped your aunt, no your mother,” said Catelyn, “and raped her.”

Jon slumped onto the bed, and Catelyn began to leave the room again.

“Where are you going?” asked Robb.

“I need to send a raven to your father,” she replied swiftly, before leaving. So much had happened that she forgot to warn Robb about the rumours of Tywin’s attack; in fact, she’d forgotten about the rumours entirely.

Robb stood up, watching her leave. When she had gone, he turned back to Jon, who slumped on the bed with his head in his hands. Robb sat down beside him, and put his arm around Jon’s shoulder. Jon leaned into his body, grateful of the contact. He was sobbing softly. They sat like that together for quite some time. Robb didn’t want to pressure Jon into speaking about it when he was not ready. And so he sat next to Jon with his arms around him, both a figurative and a literal shoulder to cry on.

Eventually, Jon looked up. His tears had gone, but his face was still covered red blotches, the ghosts of his tears. Robb lifted his arm gently and tried to wipe the red blotches away. His other arm remained around Jon the entire time. Jon leaned into him, resting his head onto Robb’s shoulder, before eventually falling so his head was in Robb’s lap. Robb started playing with Jon’s hair absent-mindedly. When he realised what he was doing, he worried that Jon would be angry at him, as he was usually so protective of his hair. But he said nothing, and appeared to enjoy it, if anything. Robb kept doing it.

At last, Jon spoke.

“Who am I?” he said softly.

Robb struggled to think of a good reply to that, but luckily he didn’t need to as Jon spoke again.

“It’s like my whole life has been a lie,” he continued. “I never knew who my mother was; I was sure who my father was, I…” He broke off, as if fighting back tears, and then spoke again. “It was all lies. Who am I, Robb? Am I Targaryen? Am I Stark? Why did no one tell me? Why did father, no Uncle Ned, not tell me? Who am I?”

The tears, though Jon had fought valiantly against them, had come back. Robb continued to fiddle with Jon’s hair, as he replied.

“You are Jon,” he said simply. “You are kind and loyal. You are brave. You are smart, even though you can be quite stupid at times.”

“Hey, you’re supposed to be comforting me,” Jon cried in mock outrage.

Robb continued, “you always do the right thing. You help people be the best they can be like no one else I’ve ever met. Everyone else tries to make you into a little version of them; you turn people into the best version of themselves they can be. You’re stubborn. You never give up. Do you remember that time when we were sparring in the courtyard when we were eight? You had always been a small child. Theon kept hitting you with that fake sword, and you just kept standing up again. And then he’d push you down again, and you’d stand up again, even stronger than before. You are Jon Snow, and you are kind and brilliant and amazing and the best person I have ever met. A person is not a name, or a title. You could be a Stark or a Targaryen or, heck, even a Lannister, but you’re still you. Still that boy in the courtyard that wouldn’t back down or give up. Whose blood you happen to have doesn’t change that. You’re still Jon Snow, and you’re still amazing.”

Finally, Jon was smiling. Victory, thought Robb.

They went to bed after that, cuddling beneath the furs as they did when they were children. It just seemed to feel right somehow. It was peaceful and quiet; well, up until the point Theon walked in and woke them up.

 

****

 

Ned sat in his chambers, his head in his hands. He didn’t know what to do. Cersei was locked in the dungeons and her children were being held in a room in the Red Keep. What was he going to do now? He’d made a deal with Renly but he wasn’t the heir to the Iron Throne. That was Stannis. What was he going to do? He slumped further down on his bed, his head beginning to ache from overthinking. He didn’t hear the door open.

“My lord?” he heard Varys say.

He looked up.

“Varys. Why are you here?”

“I’m just wondering, my lord, how you propose to take yourself out of your… current predicament. What will you do about Cersei?” Varys asked.

“Cersei will be tried in a fair trial, and, if she is found guilty, she will be brought to the King’s Justice,” Ned replied.

“Ah, yes,” said Varys, “the King’s Justice; but which king? The common people are outraged, everyone is the confused. Who is the king now? Who is the beacon for the common people? Who should they look up to know? Renly? Stannis?”

“Whose side are you on, Varys?” Ned asked.

“I assure you, Lord Stark,” Varys replied, “that I serve no lord and no king.”

“Then, who do you serve?”

“The realm. Someone must,” Varys said. “I must warn you that Tywin Lannister has not taken this slight on his honour well. I have been informed that he plans to attack Winterfell.”

“Attack Winterfell?”

Ned buried his head in his hands once again. Robert was right; he hated ruling even more than him.

“Yes, my Lord, and Stannis will found out any day now that you’ve declared Cersei’s children as bastards and march towards King’s Landing expecting the Iron Throne, which you’ve denied and given to Renly, when you announce it to the world, of course.”

“Stannis is no king,” said Ned.

“But still next-in-line to the Throne,” replied Varys. “Any war can be disastrous for the realm and for the common people, but two wars? Perhaps it would have been better if you had never declared the children bastards in the first place.”

“They are bastards,” Ned cried, “and none of them has a legitimate claim to the Iron Throne!”

“Neither did Robert, neither does Renly; and yet you side with them,” Varys replied coolly.

“It’s done now,” Ned said with a finality.

“Yes, it is,” said Varys, “unfortunately.”

 

****

 

Jon and Robb walked through the woods until it opened into a small clearing. The sun shone down through the leaves, emblazoning the entire area in green glory. This place had always been their little secret. Away from all the prying eyes of the castle, this place was their only sanctuary. Away from Theon’s jibes, as it was this time; away from Catelyn’s disapproval, which felt quite odd now, given what they’d found out; away from their annoying siblings, on occasion. This was the one place Jon felt completely at ease. It was only him, Robb, and the trees swaying comfortingly in the slight breeze. Two weeks had passed since they’d found out who Jon was, and he was still finding it difficult to process.

Jon walked over to the large tree trunk which stood close to the centre of the clearing, and sat down. It had long since been treated as a chair. He buried his head in his arms. Robb slowly approached him, and sat on his right side. Jon leaned against Robb’s shoulder and, in turn, Robb’s arm creeped around Jon’s waist. They stayed like that for a while, listening to the whispers of the trees and the songs of the birds, all the while feeling the comforting beat of the other’s heart.

Robb spoke first, his voice smooth and gentle, “are you okay, Jon?”

It was a lousy question; Robb thought so as he said it, and so did Jon. Jon turned his head towards Robb, ready to rage at him, but found that he didn’t have the energy to be angry. He felt drained of everything at the moment.

“Coping,” Jon said.

“You know that this doesn’t change anything, right?” Robb asked.

Jon wrenched out Robb’s grip, stood up, and turned on him. All of the rage suddenly flooded back into his limbs.

“No I don’t know! Of course it changes things, Robb; it changes everything! My whole life has been a massive lie told by a man I trusted; a man who I thought was my father. But now I don’t know who I am at all. Yesterday, I was a motherless bastard, and that had been hard to deal with, but now I’m fatherless too. All I know is that both my parents are dead, my father raped my mother, and I’m the child born out of it. I have no family; they were all killed in Robert’s rebellion. I’m alone.”

“No,” said Robb, standing up and reaching for Jon’s hand. “You do have a family. you have two sisters and you have three brothers. You have a father, and an uncle, and following these events maybe even a mother.” Jon scoffed. “Family is not about bloodlines, it is about love.”

“But you’re not my family,” Jon exclaimed, yanking his hand from Robb’s grasp. “Not really. You’re not my brother; you’re my, my cousin!”

“And none of that changes anything!” Robb cried. “You are still you, and my feelings towards you haven’t changed!”

“It doesn’t change anything?” Jon asked incredulously. “Doesn’t it? My whole life, Robb; it’s all been a lie. I never knew who I was, who I am.”

“I knew,” said Robb. “You were my best friend.”

Jon slowly approached Robb and buried his face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent. He let his tears escape the confines of his eyes, and sobbed softly. Robb, in turn, wrapped his powerful arms around Jon, and pressed his face to the top of Jon’s head. Jon’s tears were wetting his cloak but that didn’t matter; it could always be washed. After an eternity of comforting silence, Jon raised his head and looked at Robb.

He didn’t know why he did it. Well, he did. Robb’s beard was glistening in the green sunlight, and his blue eyes danced as if they were waves in the ocean. The sun gleamed into his auburn hair. Robb was irresistible, and Jon couldn’t help himself. His head jerked his body forward, crashing his lips to Robb’s in an explosion of wonder. Colour filled in his mind, as if he had just noticed it for the first time, and he felt free.

Jon pulled away violently, however, worried he’d overstepped some boundaries, he began to apologise.

“Robb, I–” was all he managed to say before Robb’s lips thundered into his and he was once again drowned in glory. Robb’s tongue delicately tapped at Jon’s lips, politely asking entry. Jon obliged and wrapped Robb’s tongue in his own. It was electric. He felt the pulsing beat of Robb’s heart through the soft surface. He felt magical. It was magic, it had to be. This was the best feeling Jon had ever felt in his life. For the first time ever, he felt important. He wasn’t just Ned Stark’s bastard, he wasn’t even that. He still felt so special; so loved.

They stayed like that for what felt like years, yet still much too short, but breath begged them to fall apart and, though their hearts resisted in vain, they finally broke the contact. In his lips Robb felt a tingling sensation, like too much salty food or static electricity. He longed for contact to resume but, alas dear readers, it did not.

They opened their eyes.

“What,” Jon began, “what just happened?” He was in a state of shock, albeit a good kind of shock; he couldn’t believe what had happened.

Jon continued. “We, we shouldn’t do this.”

“Why not?” asked Robb.

“We’re brothers; it’s not right.”

“We’re not brothers though.”

“We’re still cousins,” Jon exclaimed, “and who was it that was going on about ‘family is about love not bloodlines’?”

“This is love,” said Robb.

“Not family love!” Jon screamed.

“Maybe it’s your family instinct,” Robb joked.

“That’s not funny, Robb!”

“It could be true, though. Half of the Targaryens married brother and sister.”

“And half of the children they had went mad!” Jon concluded.

“Well, it’s just as well that we can’t have children.”

“Why aren’t you freaking out about this?” Jon demanded.

“Why should I,” said Robb; it wasn’t a question. “This is what I’ve wanted for so long and it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, I want to be with you, Jon.”

“But, your mother...”

“To hell with my mother! I want you, Jon. I like you. I, I love you,” he almost whispered the last sentence, afraid.

There was a pause, before Jon replied, “I love you too.”

After staying in the woods for just a while longer, with plenty more kissing, they finally thought that they ought to return home.

However, it was not the sight of Robb’s mother’s angry face that frightened them there; it was something far more frightening indeed, if that were possible. The Lannister army was outside Winterfell. Their home was under attack, and they had no preparations at all. And, what’s more, they were on the wrong side of the castle walls. They should have seen this coming, Robb realised that now; Ned had all but destroyed their family name and a Lannister always pays his debts.


End file.
